


The wound is the place where the Light enters you

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders (Dragon Age) Positive, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Dragon Age II Quest - All That Remains, Prompt Fill, Sad Hawke (Dragon Age), anders is a good boyfriend, kiss meme, unnamed hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: In the hour of mourning, after losing his mother, Hawke finds comfort in Anders's presence.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Kudos: 18





	The wound is the place where the Light enters you

**Author's Note:**

> Kiss Meme Prompt Fill from Tumblr - Prompt 20: Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better

The Maker had either a warped sense of humor or had long since chosen the Amell-Hawke line to suffer for whatever transgressions that they may have committed in the past. It was perhaps the only solace, no matter how illogical, and the only explanation for why _._ Why him, why this family, why _everything_?

There was no escape from the lucid memories, neither in the waking hours nor when he closed his eyes to shut them out. They persisted, out of spite, and for no other reason but to twist the knife. 

Anything that transpired between then and now where he sat staring into the flickering hearth had somehow not registered in his consciousness. His mind was a leaky sieve at the moment, able to retain nothing but the fragments of grisly images that he would forever carry at least in his heart if he ever managed to purge them from his head. Hawke allowed himself to disconnect from reality, and tune out the rest of the world while the flames mesmerized him, dancing to a song only they heard. All hope that had existed before this, the wide-eyed optimism of a young man eager to carve out his space in this new world, had burned up right alongside the lilies - Quentin's calling card and a grim reminder of what he'd done. And why not? He had grown so tired of the floor sinking lower and lower every time he tried to reach for something good, even the smallest scrap; he was tired of the ground crumbling beneath his feet following every minor victory. He was just tired.

Kirkwall had already taken too much from him, and still, it wanted more. Would nothing sate this city's desire for blood?

Voices in the foyer were little more than dull, muffled echoes somewhere in the forefront of his conscious mind like his ears were stuffed with cotton or he had stuck his head underwater. That made it easy for Hawke to disregard them and keep his back to the study door. That is until the sounds grew too loud to ignore, loud enough that they successfully pierced the fog that had enveloped him and bid him from his mourning to investigate.

Ice threatened to fill his lungs and creep into his throat so that his voice came out hoarse when he barked uncharacteristically at the source of the ruckus. 

"Maker's balls, what is going on?" 

It was Gamlen, practically in hysterics as he shouted at Sandal, while Bodahn desperately tried to mediate. The man turned on a hair and refocused his frenzy.

"There you are! I was looking all over for you-"

"Not now, Uncle." His fingers twitched, and his jaw clenched while his other hand gripped the doorknob tighter. 

Gamlen's face soured, and the wrinkles around his eyes creased more profoundly, aging him twice as many years. "I just- why her? Why Leandra?"

Hawke sucked in a long, deep breath through flared nostrils and just crossed through the room toward the staircase. "I said, _not_ _now_ , _Uncle_. Knowing why won't bring her back… stay if you like, but I need to be alone."

He didn't see the disappointment in Gamlen's grimace or the way Orana withdrew into the kitchen like a frightened mouse, he barely even registered each step taken towards his bedroom or his sluggish gait akin to treading water. If the door shut violently behind him, he didn't much care, but his legs carried him mindlessly to the bed where he hovered for a passing thought. 

A rap on the now-closed door made him groan. Usually, Gamlen wasn't this persistent. "Uncle Ga-"

"Hawke?" Before he could finish, a head of gold emerged through the door as it creaked open. "Oh, Love, I'm so sorry."

Anders slipped inside, unbidden, but certainly not unwelcome. The way his eyes glimmered in the light of a dying hearth made Hawke’s heart clench and his breath catch. But not a moment sooner as the other mage approached did he frown and sit defiantly on the edge of the mattress.

"Sorry about what happened or sorry that you took so long to get here?" The words tasted acidic on his tongue the minute they left his mouth. 

The hard-line frown Anders made at him was expected. "That's not fair."

Hawke made a noise that sounded foreign even to his own ears. "You're right, sorry. I'm just-"

"Hurting. Yes, I know." Anders sat down and slipped one hand in his so effortlessly that it almost didn't occur to him.

There was an apology on his lips that went unsaid as he squeezed probably harder than he intended, yet the other mage lodged no complaints. "I don't understand…"

"Understand what?" Anders's reply was quiet, a softer tone that he often reserved for his patients and their loved ones in moments like this where compassion was the only mercy.

The next breath Hawke drew was unsteady, if not just reluctant as if simply breathing was a task right now. "She was just here- I- I should have just paid more attention. I let Bethany get herself killed, Carver _would_ have died if it weren't for you - _Maker's ass_ , if I can't protect them, how am I supposed to protect you? Or anyone else?"

Hands pawed at his face, lifting his chin up so he could properly see the apprehension behind his lover's honey-gold eyes. "It is not your job to protect me, Hawke."

He laughed, almost bitterly. "Isn't it? Anders, if anything happened to you-"

"And your mother wouldn't want you to blame yourself either."

"You don't know my mother," Hawke muttered as he pulled away, knowing his words surely seemed hostile, but he couldn't help but recall the way she bemoaned over Bethany and turned barbed words on him for not preventing the tragedy before it happened.

"No," Anders said with a wistful sigh. "Not as well I would have liked. But she had to have been a kind, loving woman to raise a man like yourself."

Typically he would have accepted the compliment for what it was and followed up with something witty or equally sentimental. Instead, he grew quiet and let himself rest against Anders's shoulder earnestly until the man slipped an arm around him. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, at least. Not that anything needed to be said, but the silence was stiff. When another second passed, Hawke practically swooped in to kiss Anders. He didn't know how else to break the dead air, or if that was a sufficient way to express his gratitude for having someone here, despite all attempts to seclude himself. 

It had to have been enough though, as Anders reciprocated after a moment's hesitation. If anyone knew best about distracting oneself from an uncomfortable situation, it was him. 

Before long, clothes were shed with no regard for where they landed, and Hawke cared too little to question whether this was at all appropriate. 

Right now, it was the _only_ thing that felt good and right.


End file.
